There are several mentions of "The Big Fire of
1974" at Butlins Skegness on the Internet - few, if any, of which are accurate.
Now you can get the facts, as I was actually in charge of the Princes Ballroom
when it went up.

At 2-15pm on Wednesday 5th June 1974, myself (Redcoat
IC), and Steve Johnson (Camp Compere), began the "Miss Personality
Competition" in the Princes Ballroom. This was followed at 4.15pm
by the "Modern Miss Competition," for which Steve and I stayed
on. During this, a guest approached me and told me that there was smoke coming
out of the top of the escalator. Thinking it was overheating I immediately
switched it off and put another Redcoat, Sylvia, on station duty there, to
stop people from using it. I then broke the code of interrupting the Compere
during a competition, and whispered in his ear to wrap the competition up
quickly, and to announce that everyone must leave immediately by the stairs
at the other end of the ballroom.

MISS
PERSONALITY COMPETITION
On the left is me, Alan J. Marriot. On the right is compere Steve Johnson.
Possibly the last photograph ever taken in the Princes
Ballroom.Within an hour of this photo being taken, the Princes Ballroom had gone.
Within five weeks, Steve and I had also gone.Nothing is
indispensable.

(Photo by the Butlins Skegness Resident Photographer 1974.)

Steve didn't know exactly what was going at this
stage, but he knew me well enough to respect my decision, and carried out
my request. The guests did just what was asked of them, and vacated the premises
in record time. By this time, the amount of smoke issuing from the escalator
was increasing by the minute. Steve and I split up and ran into the Ladies
and Gents toilets to warn anyone who might be in there to pull their pants
up and get out. We next went to the bars and warned the staff that they,
too, must vacate. We then spotted the cleaner sat in among the row of chairs
around the ballroom floor. "What are you doing here," I asked. "I'm waiting
for everyone to leave, then I can clean the ballroom floor." I told him,
in no uncertain terms, that that wasn't a sensible thing to do - so he
reluctantly left.

Satisfied that everyone was now clear of the upper
part of the Princes Complex, Steve and I prepared to make our own exit when,
without warning, there was an almighty explosion, which blew an enormous
hole in the ballroom floor. So much for staying behind to clean it.

THE PRINCES BALLROOM
Hundreds of thousands of holidaymakers had danced on this floor, but it all
came to a tragic
end on the afternoon of 5th June 1974 when a huge explosion ripped the heart
out of it.

(Real Butlin's Photograph)

And directly under the Princes Ballroom was the
exotic Beachcomber Bar.
It was in the kitchens of the Beachcomber Chinese Restaurant that the fire
started.

Having negotiated the stairs quicker than a cannonball
being dropped from the upstairs window, we reached the street outside. However,
our job wasn't over, as we next had to make sure that no-one was in the
downstairs premises:- the Amusement Arcade, The Beachcomber Bar and Restaurant,
and the Cafe.

Two of the girls from the cafe were hysterical,
as an older lady who worked with them was trapped behind the cafe door. It
was hinged to open inwards but the pressure, caused by the heat and smoke,
was jamming it shut. Steve and I jointly kicked it, and kicked it again,
until the lady behind it managed to stagger out during the split second it
stayed open before slamming shut again.Thankfully that was the nearest it got to there
being any casualties.

Here is the external view of the Princes Building,
before the fire wiped it from the picture.

(1973 postcard - John Hinde Ltd.)

And there it was - GONE!
The green is where the Princes Ballroom used to stand.

(1976 postcard - John Hinde Studios)

We then spent considerable energy encouraging
everyone to move back from the building, which was now well alight. The windows
had shattered with the heat, and flames were licking through the vacant frames.
The speed of the fire, and the heat it generated, was incredible. The asbestos
roof was just "popping," and pieces were flying everywhere (The following
day we found pieces of it on the Sportsfield, which was about half-a-mile
away). Twenty minutes later the massive complex was just a tangled wreck
of twisted metal girders. Cue the sound of approaching fire engines.

Within minutes of us leaving,
the whole complex was well ablaze.

Just twenty-minutes later the massive complex was
just
a tangled wreck of twisted metal girders.

THE AFTERMATH

The following morning when we went to survey the
damage, we couldn't believe what we saw. During the night an 8ft. high ply-board
fence had been erected, and now surrounded the whole site. By lunchtime the
fence had been painted green, to blend in. The instructions from the management
had overtones of the Fawlty Towers sketch "The Germans" - only here,
the message was: "Don't mention the fire." All the Cabaret acts who had been
booked to appear at the camp during the coming weeks were told that, if they
did any gags about the fire, their contracts would be instantly terminated.
None did.

The frontage of the Radio Butlin building had
been caught by the fire, and had put the Tannoy system out of action. So,
at 7-30am, a large possee of Redcoats had to walk up and down the Chalet
lines, knocking on doors to wake people for breakfast. We weren't the only
ones who weren't pleased at having to get up at that early hour. In fact,
over half of the guests didn't want waking up, as they were scheduled for
second-sitting at 9-30. Most made their feelings known with phrases beginning
with "f" - and it wasn't "fanks."

To make up for the missing Ballroom and Bars,
the Ingoldmells Hotel, which was just outside the fence, was
brought inside the fence, by moving the fence. All the events
scheduled for the Princes Ballroom were then shared out between the Empress
Ballroom, the Queen's Showbar, and the Ingoldmells building.

The speed and thought which went into continuing
as if nothing had happened was faultless, and a text book lesson to all.
As for myself and Steve Johnson, within five weeks we both left Skegness.
The commendation we got for handling the situation never materialised - not
even so much as a "fank you." Such is Butlins. Bring on the next
recruits.

When I worked at Skeggy in
1973 and '74, the Ingoldmells Hotel was outside the Camp's perimeter
fence,
and was used almost exclusively as a drinking trough for the Butlins staff
- who weren't allowed to drink on site.
But then, after the fire, the fence was moved to bring it
inside. The postcard on the left clearly shows the
Security men's hut, half-way down the side of Ingoldmells, next to which
was the security gate and fence.

This room in the Ingoldmells Hotel became an
entertainment venue, to hold
some of the guests who had been displaced by the loss of the Princes building.